Archive Of Potentialities.

Short Story: Dreamer [11]

Chapter 11: The World.

......

Of what had the world been born?

Was it the Creator's pride, his drive? No.

The Chaos Creator was said to be the inheritor of those, a fact that has been duly observed and verified. The anomaly was responsible for a lot of things, and will be responsible for more yet.

But it is not the one. It lacks a certain quality.

Was it his other side then? Out of the question, illogical, unacceptable.

"Destruction could not birth creation, it does not compute. Next."

....What was it then? What is it that moved the Creator? What is it that moves creation itself? Questions and more questions, but the answer insisted on hiding away.

The world had never asked questions before, much less about itself. It simply was and would keep on being, ideally.

But no sooner had it asked its first that more followed. Curiosity was truly a disease.

But most had no intention of being cured, as     the world had come to understand. It did not want to be cured either, it had to know. Which brought it back...

Of what had the world – it — been born?

There was interaction, there was awareness, then there was thought. And thought left it with questions, questions it wished it could ask the invasive Manas that first jolted it into awareness. But it could not, the world failed to understand the nuances of those within it, but it knew logic all too well.

Naturally, logically, this nascent will should be destroyed. It knew it, the Manas would know it too. So it remained silent. Containing life of countless worlds but remaining on its lonesome.

It did not recognize its own tragedy, it only thought. Since that first spark of independent thought, all it did was think.

A year, two. A decade, three. A century, eight.

Eight centuries before it arrived at an answer. The world knew why the world had been born.

It wasn't pride or arrogance, not some need to construct a grand reality for the shallow satisfaction of some complex.

It wasn't an illogical paradox of creating the world to destroy it, or something as ludicrous as the creator having latent mental issues.

In the throes of tragic discipline, tacit curiosity and timeless observation, the world arrived at an answer.

It was sloth.

......

"Insanity, this is all insanity I tell you."

Byakuya let the words roll over him as he gazed at the elven culprit. This one had been a naysayer since the beginning, it made him wonder why the man was still attending the meetings.

Maybe he was insane, maybe they all were.

"We don't have time to convince you yet another time, Lord Riden. Please hold your peace," Ruken admonished, sounding as if he was consoling a toddler.

Byakuya for a moment mused if Ruken was attempting to sabotage him, because the Elf only grew incensed at the condescending tone.

"I don't need any convincing, child. This is simply caution borne of experience. You all seem to have no respect for the danger we're all walking into," The lord was an Elf nearing 4 centuries in age, but looked as young and beautiful as elves tended to. Ruken had brought him in because of his experience with playing the long game.